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by autumnwritesoccasionally



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Domestic Violence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Protective Jax Teller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnwritesoccasionally/pseuds/autumnwritesoccasionally
Summary: Jax finds out what you've been trying to keep from him.
Relationships: Jax Teller/Reader, Original Male Character/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Home

You throw back the shot of Jameson in front of you, reveling in its warmth as it goes down. Slamming the glass back on the table, you look at it expectantly for someone to take the hint and refill it.

“Seriously? Never?” Juice asks incredulously.

“Why is it so hard to believe that I’ve never been skinny dipping?” 

This was the annoying thing about being a girl playing Never Have I Ever with guys–if you’ve done something scandalous, it’s slutty, and you haven’t then you’re a prude. You roll your eyes and subconsciously pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your wrists to keep covered.

“Because you’re hot.” Juice quickly answers, then immediately regrets it when Jax smacks him in the back of the head.

“Leaver her alone, shithead.” He looks at you from across the table, “How many is that for you, Y/N?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You keeping tabs on me, Teller?”

He leans forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. I just don’t know how that boyfriend of yours would feel about you getting drunk with a bunch of horny bikers.”

You grab the whiskey bottle out of Opie’s hand and take a large swig. “He’s working tonight and I do what I please, you know that.” You look around to the rest of the guys at the table, “Jesus, boys. Are we gonna sit around and gossip, or are we gonna drink?”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

You’d lost count of how many shots you’d had. Not a great sign. But you felt better than you had in a long time, the warm whiskey seemed to make your forget all your troubles–at least temporarily.

The music picks up and you start to sway your hips. You grab Jax’s hand, pulling him to the floor. “Dance with me!”

Jax puts his hands on your hips, bring your back against his front. “You know I don’t dance, Y/N.” His voice low in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You move your hips more, pressing slightly against him. “Well you know that I do.” It was getting hot in the clubhouse, the result of dozens of bikers, croweaters, and hangarounds drinking and dancing in the confined main room. Sweat starts to pool a the back of your neck. Without thinking, you shake off your sweater and throw it to your chair.

“What the hell!?”

Instantly you’ve realized your mistake, you look to find your sweater. Before you can take a step, Jax pulls you around to face him. He brings his hands to your arms, which are largely covered in hand shaped bruises.

“Y/N, what is this?” His tone is demanding, the relaxed and alcohol fueled expression gone, now replaced with one of anger and concern.

“It’s…it’s nothing Jax.” You pull your arms out of his grasp and step over to grab your sweater. “Just leave it be.”

He takes you by the hand and leads you to the back hallway of the clubhouse. You’re too tired–and maybe too drunk–to resist him. You learned a long time ago that trying to resist Jax Teller was often pointless.

“Jackson–”

Before you can finish whatever excuse you were about to throw out, Jax pushes you against the wall and holds you there.

“Did that asshole boyfriend do this to you?” His eyes are burning into yours and you feel your chest start to tighten. You open your mouth to say something–anything that will assure him that you’re okay, but you can’t. No words come out.

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You squeeze them closed and shake your head a bit to try and keep them at bay. Jax moves his hands to cup your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Y/N. Tell me what happened.” The intensity is still there, but there’s a bit of softness now. You melt a little in his hold on you. You can’t help but feel so… _safe_ when you’re with him. Like the feeling of coming home after a hard day.

But you can’t bring yourself to tell the truth. At least not all of it.

“He…he really didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

_Lie._

“He just got stressed and overdid it. He feels terrible.”

_Lie._

“This was the first time, Jax. It won’t happen again.”

_Lie._

You’re surprised at the strength in your tone. You keep eye contact with Jax and hope that he’ll just drop the whole thing. You didn’t need to keep sitting in this shit, you wanted to escape from it. _Hence the getting drunk at a samcro party._

Jax just shakes his head, the rage overtaking him. “No, Y/N. This is not okay. Ever. I’m gonna kill that piece of shit.” He starts to move away, no doubt to grab a few guys and hunt the asshole down.

“No! Jax, no…please.” You move in front of him and put your hands on his chest. “Please let me handle this. I promise it’s not as bad as you think.” Your look is pleading and you don’t know if he hears the panic laced in your voice. 

“Y/N, if he’s hurting you–”

“He’s not. Please, Jax.”

He stares at you for a long moment, considering. “You’ll…” He lets out a deep sigh, clearly reluctant to give in. “You’ll let me know if anything else happens? I mean _anything_ , Y/N.”

You let out a breath. “Of course. I promise.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It took some time after your talk for Jax to settle back into the party, but a few more shots and you making a fool of yourself on the dance floor seemed to pull him out of his mood. Emboldened by his inebriated state, Jax grabs your waist as you’re walking past and pulls you down on his lap.

You let out a laugh. “Can I help you, Teller?”

“I just wanted to get a good look at ya, sweetheart.” A wolfish grin spreads across his face. “Trying to imagine that skinny dipping scenario…”

“Ha!” You burst out automatically. “Keep imagining, VP.” You flick him in the forehead before you get up. You’re thankful for the someone inappropriate comment though, hopefully that means the two of you can go back to normal.

It’s not too long before the party starts dying down. Patches disperse with various croweaters in tow and you know it’s time for you to get home before you see something you can never _unsee_. 

Thankfully sober enough to drive yourself home, you make your way outside to your car. You squint your eyes and bring you hand up to cover them as bright headlights come into view. You see a familiar truck whip violently onto the lot and you freeze.

Slamming the door shut, he gets out and storms towards you.

“I knew I’d find you here!” His voice cuts into you, you almost flinch at the sound.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” You do your best to keep your voice steady. You don’t want to cause a scene out here.

His hand comes across your face so fast you can’t even register that it’s happened till seconds after. 

“ _You_ don’t get to ask me anything!” He wraps his hand around your throat, pushing you against your car door. “I told you to stay away from your trash biker friends. And here I find you, at one of their whore parties. How many cocks did you swallow down your throat tonight, mm?” He tightens his grip before throwing you to the ground. 

You cough and try to catch your breath, but you stay on the ground. You have no idea what he’s about to do. He’s been rough in the past, but this is the first time that you’re actually scared of him. 

“Answer me!” He brings his boot clad foot back and kicks you in the stomach, _hard_. A loud cry escapes you before you can help it. Your mind is racing so fast, you can’t focus. You don’t know what to say, what to do. He’s a big guy and he’s seething mad–there’s no way you can match him physically. And anything you say could just set him off more.

“Y/N!” You recognize Jax’s voice across the lot. Your boyfriend turns, but doesn’t have time to react as Jax throws his fist into his jaw. You push yourself farther away on the ground, the pain in your ribs making it difficult to move let alone stand.

The two of them are also on the pavement now, with Jax on top pounding his fists into your abuser’s face in quick succession. Your vision starts to blur and you hear more voices, the fight gaining more attention from inside the clubhouse.

You register Opie and Juice pulling Jax off the battered man, left bloody and barely conscious on the ground. The look on Jax’s face is one you’ve never seen before. Beyond angry or enraged. Murderous. 

But as his eyes find yours it instantly morphs into concern and he rushes to you. “Y/N are you hurt?”

“I-I’m okay…” Your voice comes out a bit dazed, your mind still reeling over everything that’s happened.

“Can you stand?” He brings his arms around you to help you up. You look around the lot to see a small crowd that’s gathered around the commotion. With Jax’s hands in yours, you study them. They’re stained red, the knuckles busted open in places. You can’t take your eyes off of them. 

“Y/N.” Jax bends his head down so he can catch your eyes. “You’ve been trying to deal with this yourself?” There’s an edge to his voice now and it brings you out of your fog. Embarrassment and shame creep into you.

“I thought I could handle it. I thought he would stop.” 

You sound so small. Pathetic even. And you hate it. How did you let it get this far? You were never one to be pushed around. And you knew it would only take one word from you to let Jax help you. 

So why did you hide it?

Jax reaches up and wipes away the tears that you didn’t even know were falling down your cheeks. That feeling of home returns to you. Jackson feels like home. He always has.

Has that always been there?

You’re not sure if what you’re feeling is emotion-fueled adrenaline that you’ll regret in the morning–or if you’re finally seeing things clearly. 

“Jackson…” You breath out his name like it’s the first time you’ve said it–like _really_ said it.

He looks at you and his brows furrow a bit. Before he can say anything, you pull him close and press your lips to his. You feel him freeze for a few seconds in surprise, but it doesn’t take long for him to kiss you back eagerly. You snake your hands up slowly till they’re wrapped in his hair, bringing him even closer so your bodies are pressed together.

You pull back, stopping the kiss. You whisper “I’m sorry, if you don’t-” 

Jax cuts you off with another kiss, grabbing the back of your head with one hand and pulling your waist against him with the other. You feel him smile on your lips.

After a few minutes you finally break apart, hearing someone clear their throat. You look up to see Opie throwing you boyfriend–now ex-boyfriend–into his truck. You can’t hear exactly what he’s saying, but you’re guessing you won’t be seeing much of him anymore.

Jax starts to lead you inside the clubhouse with his arm wrapped around your waist. He leans down to your ear, “Let’s go to sleep, you need to rest after all that shit.”

You lean into him and smile. “It wasn’t all shit.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Well…your chances of living out that skinny dipping scenario have just improved greatly.”

You don’t even have to look back at Jax to know that he’s smirking. 


End file.
